Yesterday, because I begun writing my work log first, I ate into my work time and barely got anything done. Today, I worked first so now I have half an hour to write and publish something.
Today I saw an old black man with white hair with blue eyes. I had seen him in the same park in the same bench a year ago, playing a harp. Something magical happened that day, next to this man was young man who was handing out free samples of a magazine of poetry that his father wrote. I asked him if the musician was associated with his father's magazine, becuase the entire scene looked like poetry to me. He said no, I don't even know this musician but I know what you mean, we are all connected and I like to think today our purposes are connected. You were drawn to the music and that allows me to gift you poetry.
I was elated at his response, and I was elated to see the musician again. Everything seems to be drawing a circle. I'm starting to understand that this quixotic quest is coming to an end, and I accept it.
I am short of any sort of conclusion, but if I don't hurry to publish this I will lose it because my time at the library's computer is almost up.